“I heard you weren’t very good at that kind of thing.” He crosses his arms.
“Huh, I’ll have you know I am working on it.” I scoff and point a finger.
“He’s my brother. I don’t like the idea of going behind his back.”
“I know. And I said I’ll tell him, but first I just need you to figure something out for me.”
“What is it?”
I pull the paper from my pocket. “I need you to look up this phone number in your magic police computer.”
He looks at the number. “Where’s it from?”
I sigh. “He’s called it a few times. One was really long, like forty-five minutes, just yesterday. There are also some texts, but nothing I can pull from.”
“Well, what’s the name on it?”
“No name, just ‘LH.’”
“LH, hmm.”
“What was Lexie’s last name?” I ask with a swallow.
Mason’s eyes meet mine. “He wouldn’t.” He shakes his head.
“I know he wouldn’t, but—”
He hands the paper back my way. “I don’t want to get in the middle of this.”
“Mason, just please—”
“Ella. Let me try and help you so you guys don’t have some blow up fight over this,” he starts and shifts his feet. “Go ask him about it in person. Don’t be so scared. He’s the most patient guy I know. He’s not gonna get mad and he’s certainly not gonna lie.” His words are genuine. He’s right.
“Okay …” I take the paper back.
“I’m sorry. But I love you both and don’t want to get in the middle.”
I nod. “No, I get it. Sorry for putting you in a tough spot.”
“It’s all good,” he says as I turn to leave. “Have a good shift,” he adds, and I give him a soft smile.
* * *
The ER is steady but not overwhelming, for now. It’s been a few hours since I clocked in. As we near 2 a.m., my mind is still stuck on earlier. Jesse and that phone number.
I shake the thought away as I round intoroom five. My patient is a woman in her fifties with a nasty cut on her forehead. She’s sitting, arms crossed, in the bed. Her chart reads, “vehicle accident, possible concussion.” She’s been alert and irritable this entire time.
“Miss Stevens,” I greet with a smile. “How’s the headache?”
“Throbbing. I’m gonna need something stronger than that infant dose of Tylenol you gave me,” she grumbles.
I look through her chart. “I’ll have the doctor order something stronger.” Tapping around the keyboard quickly before I reach for my penlight, I then round around to her bedside. “Mind if I check your pupils again?”
She sighs with annoyance but doesn’t argue. Bringing the light up, I check both. They’re reactive and the same size. Good.
“You feel nauseous? Dizzy?” I asked.
“Only when I think about how much money this is gonna cost me.”
